An Unsuitable Governess
by VioletKingAuthor
Summary: Sparks fly when Miss Elizabeth Bennet takes work as a governess at Pemberley. Will deceptions, highwaymen, and one rambunctious eleven-year-old girl bring Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy together or tear them apart?
1. Chapter 1

I have bunches more research to do to get Mr. Darcy's Charade moving again, I decided to let it ruminate for a while and work on a fun plot bunny I'd had waiting in the wings! This is **Chapter 1 of what feels like a novella** , which is now under the working title **An Unsuitable Governess**. The book is a wholly separate variation from my previous stories and will stand alone. It is, as usual, **an unedited first draft** , so bear with me and my errors. I hope you enjoy this story! I'm having a blast with it :D

 **Chapter 1**

Beneath a gray and weeping sky, a Royal Mail stagecoach trundled north towards Derbyshire. Miss Elizabeth Bennet wished to pretend it was all a grand adventure, but three days being jounced about until her muscles and teeth ached and three nights in tiny coaching inn rooms with the thin, ill-tempered maid Mrs. Gardiner had insisted Elizabeth bring as a chaperone, had robbed Elizabeth of her sense of wonder. Her eyelids were stiff, her hair itched, and she stank.

Across from Elizabeth sat a white-haired, plump woman with spectacles on her nose and a book in her lap. She traced the text with her index finger as she read, pausing occasionally to take a sip from her hip flask or glance out glance out the window at the patchwork fields.

Elizabeth glanced over at her, and then, fearing rudeness, turned her attention back to the pillow on her lap. Gripping the needle between her thumb and forefinger, she sewed. Beside her, on the bench, the maid turned chaperone Adelaide slept with her head tipped back, mouth parted and snoring like an angry cricket.

"Is it your first time in a public coach?" the woman across from her asked.

Was it so obvious? Elizabeth stabbed the needle into the pillow. "Yes."

"It is not so terrible." The woman closed her book and placed it on the bench beside her. She lifted her hip flask and took a sip. "Have you and your... friend...," she glanced at Adelaide. "Come up all the way from London?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"Long journey. You must be exhausted." The woman held out her hip flask. "Have a taste. It will warm your bones."

Elizabeth hesitated. She was not in the habit of accepting refreshments from strangers. "What is it?"

"My special mix for long trips. Go on, then."

Elizabeth glanced over at Adelaide, but the maid did not stir. A fine protector. But Elizabeth was thirsty, and she appreciated the offer of friendship. She took the flask and sipped cautiously.

Liquid fire burned down her throat. Elizabeth coughed, blinking rapidly.

The old woman chuckled. "My specialty. Tea with a touch of lavender and a healthy dollop of gin."

"It is bracing," Elizabeth said, handing the flask back. Now that the initial burn had passed, the drink had warmed her, or at least distracted her from the chill, damp air and Elizabeth's own nerves.

"Are you visiting family up north?"

"In Lampton. And I am hoping to find work as a governess or a lady's companion."

Elizabeth's hands shook. She was really doing this, putting her life and her prospects behind her and seeking work.

After rejecting Mr. Collins' proposal, life at Longbourn had become intolerable. If her aunt and uncle had not visited and yielded to Elizabeth's entreaties to take her with them to Town, she might have buckled, not to Mr. Collins, who had already wed Charlotte, but to another fool with a good income who Elizabeth did not admire.

No, it was better she left. The life of a governess was uncertain, and for many unhappy, but if Elizabeth could not marry for love, she would not marry at all. And if she was not to marry, then she needed to provide for herself. She refused to be a burden to her family.

"Lampton! Why, that is my destination. My niece is with child, and I wished to give her some aid, what with her husband being away with Wellington's men. Have you any brothers on the front? We might pray, together."

Elizabeth was touched. "I have no brothers, but if you wish to pray..." Elizabeth had prayed enough this past month for guidance or at least comfort. Perhaps God had guided her here.

"In a bit, perhaps. You are not so fond of embroidery, are you, Miss -?"

Elizabeth bit the inside of her cheek. As tired and sore as she was from the days of travel, once she left this coach, her future became even more uncertain. "Elizabeth," she said.

The maid snorted and rubbed her hand over her cheek. Drool glistened from the corner of her mouth.

"Elizabeth Ben-." No. Once she left this coach, Miss Elizabeth Bennet would disappear. Best to begin now.

"Mrs. Elizabeth Wilson," Elizabeth declared. Wilson was her aunt's maiden name and the one she had chosen to begin her new life.

The old woman's eyebrow twitched. "Mrs. Wilson," she said, smiling with one missing tooth. "Evelyn. Mrs. Evelyn Johnson. It is a pleasure to meet you."

The carriage jerked.

"Huh?" Adelaide rubbed her eyes. The carriage jerked again. Elizabeth gripped the seat as ahead, the driver, astride one of the heavy draft horses, pulled back on the reins, shouting. The horses turned left, slowing beside a carriage which appeared to have tipped onto its side. The horses were gone.

"Goodness! I had not believed the rumors!" Mrs. Johnson exclaimed.

"Rumors?"

"Highwaymen."

Elizabeth swallowed. She peered out the side window. A footman hopped down from the coach. He held a rifle in hand as he approached the downed carriage.

Adelaide said, "Cor! Mrs. Gardiner said no such thing of us being robbed."

"Perhaps there was an accident," Elizabeth suggested.

"Humph! What accident run off with the horses?"

Adelaide made an excellent point.

The footman returned, shaking his head as he walked back. He spoke briefly to the driver and then walked towards the back of the coach. Elizabeth stood.

"What are you doing?" Adelaide said as Elizabeth opened the stagecoach door.

"Finding out what is going on?" Elizabeth said. A cold wind swept into the carriage. "Excuse me," Elizabeth shouted to the footman as he passed. "What happened?"

"Nothing to concern yourself with, Miss."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No. It is empty."

An empty carriage, no horses, and rumors of highwaymen. Elizabeth shivered.

"We'll be on our way again, Miss, if you would like to get settled in."

Elizabeth thanked him and pulled the door shut.

"Cor," Adelaide said again as the coach rumbled forward. "They gon' report it at the next station?"

"I suppose," Elizabeth said, seating herself again on the bench. As the driver guided the horses, Elizabeth reached up to the shawl around her shoulders and clasped it around her.

Mrs. Johnson took another swig from her flask. "Lampton is a quiet town. You were looking for work as a governess, you said?"

Elizabeth nodded. Thoughts of the empty carriage had driven away fears about her future employment.

"Try the Darcy house," Mrs. Johnson advised, holding the flask out again.

"Darcy?" It could not be the same odious Darcy who had mocked her and then danced with her with all the warmth of a plasterwork. Though Jane or perhaps their mother had mentioned Mr. Darcy's estate was in the North.

"At Pemberley. The youngest Darcy girl has been quite the terror since their father's passing, my niece says. She is ten and one and since last summer has driven away three young governesses on her own."

Pemberley. That was the name of Mr. Darcy's estate. Elizabeth had little doubt Mr. Darcy's sister was a terror. She would be following in the family tradition.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, resolving to find work elsewhere. Highwaymen. Monster children, and now this.

"I would not have suggested it, love, but you were so fierce just then with the footman." Mrs. Johnson held the flask out again, and Elizabeth took it. Mrs. Elizabeth Wilson needed a taste of courage.

 **XYXYXYXYX**

 **Thank you for reading!** I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. As is my wont, I've created another Darcy sibling and she is delightful. I'll post the next chapter soon. Any and all feedback is loved and appreciated!

Best,

V


	2. Chapter 2

Sorry it's taken me so long to update! Major reogranization happened this week, and so while this chapter was written, I needed to go over it with ProWritingAid so it's at least somewhat readable :D

As always, **this is an unedited first draft**. Please bear with the errors 3! Also, as a note, it should be clearer now where this book varies from canon (this and chapter 3). I hope you enjoy it :)

 **Chapter 2**

After settling herself and Adelaide at the Rose and Crown Inn, Elizabeth ordered them both the luxury of a hip bath and changed into a fresh frock. The Gardiners' had given her coin for her troubles, but Elizabeth wish to find work as quickly as possible. She would not impose herself further upon their charity by writing to ask for assistance.

"Miss Bennet?" Adelaide ventured, seeing Elizabeth gathering her outside wear.

"Wilson," Elizabeth said. "Mrs. Wilson."

"Yes'm," Adelaide said, clutching her hands. "Mrs. Wilson? Mrs. Gardiner said I was to accompany you on your trip and-."

"And we have arrived. This is the countryside, and I am well used to walking in the countryside. I will not be long."

Adelaide looked aghast. "On your own, miss?" She looked down at her hands. She was a maid, not a proper lady's companion. It was not her place to contest her assigned mistress. At the same time, she had been tasked with Elizabeth's virtue.

"I am a widow making a call to the parson," Elizabeth reassured her. "My virtue is well in hand. Can you can see to things here? We will need a proper dinner. And supper."

"Miss?"

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, ending the conversation. As soon as she found work, she would send Adelaide back to London with assurances that Elizabeth was well settled.

"Yes'm."

The day was chilly and gray. It had, at least, ceased raining, and patches of light brightened some of the clouds, giving the afternoon a hint of promise which restored Elizabeth's optimism. The ground was damp, and as Elizabeth walked the main road alongside the wheel ruts.

At the town center stood the church, an impressive edifice of stone towering a full story over the smaller shops surrounding it. Elizabeth hope the rector would be in attendance, or at least nearby, as he would be most likely to know which households might be in need of a governess within the village and surrounding area. As Elizabeth passed the milliner, she noted a young maid standing at the curb in front of carriage, having an animated conversation with a footman. She twisted a curl from beneath her bonnet, looking up at the footman with a flirtatious smile.

Elizabeth averted her gaze.

She entered the church, and finding both the vicar and rector absent, resolved both to return in the morning and to inquire about the town where one might encounter either or both men. Elizabeth's natural amicability prevailed over her disappointment, and as she left the church, she smiled at the weak sunlight had pierced some of the afternoon's oppressive clouds.

Mrs. Gardner had given Elizabeth a letter of introduction to former neighbors and friends in the area, and Elizabeth hoped calling upon them would improve her prospects. For now, she would enjoy a meat pie.

But as she retraced her steps to the Inn, an unsavory scene arrested her attention. A girl, perhaps eleven or twelve, stood with her back to a stone wall in front of a between two shops. In front of her were two young men. Their clothing was shabby and disheveled. The young girl's dress was finely made in a pale yellow muslin. Aside from a smudge of dirt on her cheek, she was neat and clean. She fisted her gloved hands as she said something to the two young men.

The older of the pair laughed.

Elizabeth, recognizing the danger of the situation, strode over to them. "Excuse me? Might I ask your business with this young lady?"

The two men turned to Elizabeth. Noting the fabric and fine cut of her frock and the confidence of her bearing, the smaller of the two men stepped back. "Apologies, ma'am. This young lady was lost."

"I thank you for offering aid, but it is no longer required." Elizabeth strode towards the young girl and linked their arms together.

The girl was short and stocky of build with disheveled blond curls. Her features were strong, the sort that overpowered a child but grew more handsome with age. "I did not need any help," she whispered, but her hand was shaking as Elizabeth walked her away from the two men.

Elizabeth said, "You should not be walking alone."

"You are walking alone," the girl retorted.

She made a point. Elizabeth had abandoned her own chaperone to walk on her own, and she'd made a habit of long, solitary walks since she was near this child's age. Though she had never ventured unaccompanied to the village.

"It is true. But I am now one and twenty." Or almost such. "When I was two and ten," Elizabeth glanced down at the young woman, who averted her gaze. "I did not venture to town on my own without the company of my mother was sisters. Have you any sisters?"

"She is away. In Oxfordshire."

"You must be very lonely without her. I have five sisters. The oldest is Jane, and I miss her terribly." Elizabeth swallowed. Jane, having no success crossing paths with Mr. Bingley, let alone recapturing his interest, had left town a week before Elizabeth.

"Georgiana would rather play piano and play court to–." The young girl shook her head. "I cannot talk of that." She blushed. Elizabeth, sympathetic to the girl's mortification, having experienced an unfair degree with her mother and two youngest sisters, changed the subject. "I am Elizabeth... Elizabeth Wilson."

"Rose," the girl said. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Wilson."

They walked back along the side of the road, skirt hems dragging against the damp grass, which muffled the sound of their footfalls. "Whereabouts do you live? Was it a long walk?"

Judging by Rose's dress and manners, Elizabeth doubted she had walked very far on her own. She had a smudge of dirt on her cheek, but the pale yellow muslin of her frock was mostly clean, and a family with the wealth to afford their daughter such a fine dress would not allow her so much freedom to gallivant on her own about the countryside.

Even as eccentric as her own family's habits were, much of Elizabeth's freedom had been due to a surfeit of siblings and a mother who, while she often accompanied them on excursions was also easily distracted, allowing the girls greater independence provided they kept a watchful eye on each other.

Lastly, it did not escape Elizabeth that Rose had only shared her given name. A girl with permission to run wild would not have hidden her identity. But Rose's safety was of greater import than then proving the young girl a liar.

"I think you for your help," Rose said, pulling her away. "But I have no need of further companionship, Mrs. Wilson."

"Who were those young men?"

"Village boys." Rose stepped away, glancing back the way they had come.

Elizabeth said, "I had thought to stop for a meat pie before returning to my room at the inn. You may not wish companionship, but it has been a little lonely for me, as this is my first time so far from home with no family at my side. If you would oblige me, Miss Rose, I would be grateful for your company."

"You would?"

"Of course. I suspect we have much in common. We both like walking."

Rosa's lips twitched. "I suppose."

"And I _suppose_ we both would enjoy a meat pie. Are they very tasty at the shop?"

Rose nodded. "My last governess felt it inappropriate for me to have such a snack between meals.""

"Pish! You are growing. And active. A meat pie should cause you no lasting harm."

Rose laughed. Elizabeth held out her arm, and the girl took it again. A walked together along a stone wall enclosing a small field with sheep and past the church.

"Why are you so far from your family?" Rose gasped, her eyes widening, "Are you seeking your fortune?"

Her fortune? Young Rose had an interest in novels, an interest in which Elizabeth doubted her previous governess had approved.

If she had even known.

While some, including Mary and Meryton's parson, felt novels had an adverse effect on a growing mind, Elizabeth had never held such notions. Her mother had never read a novel, indulging only scandal sheets and Burke's peerage and yet, she was often silly. Jane read novels while Lydia, the least practical of Elizabeth sisters, read nothing at all. Elizabeth quite enjoyed a good novel and found no shame in it.

Elizabeth said, "I was hoping to find work as a lady's companion or governess."

"You do not act at all like a governess."

Elizabeth bit her lower lip. "How does a governess behave?"

"She is strict. She dislikes reading unless it is for one's own edification, which means overly moral and deadly dull. She insists upon hours and hours the pianoforte. She does not approve when one climbs trees or searches for treasure."

"And she does not approve of meat pies between meals, as you have said. That all sounds quite terrible. I much enjoy climbing trees."

"You do?" Rose leaned closer to her. "I think Georgiana might have once approved of climbing trees, but I was too small, and then… I–. You should tell no one of your fondness for climbing trees, if you wish to be a governess," Rose declared. "Perhaps you are better suited as a lady's companion. Though ladies also do not approve of climbing trees in my experience."

Elizabeth laughed. "I believe this is much dependent on the lady. The truth of it is a lady never _admits_ to climbing trees, at least not in company."

Rose nodded solemnly. "Just as one does not admit to doing cartwheels or exploring or any exercise beyond dancing."

"Do you dance?"

"I am not yet allowed until I have a better mastery of Latin, but Georgiana has showed me some of what she has learned."

Elizabeth understood why Miss Rose had little fondness for governesses. Elizabeth, free to pursue her own interests, had approached Latin at first as a way of growing closer to her father, and after fallen in love with their tales of gods and heroics. Perhaps if Rose could gain more enjoyment from her lessons, she would retain them. In Elizabeth's experience, knowledge was more easily acquired through enjoyment.

They stopped at the shop, sharing a meat pie hot from the oven. By time Elizabeth and Rose had finished their snack, and were licking hot juices from their fingers, the pair had become fast friends.

But as they stepped out of the shop, a delicate blonde woman of about two and eight came dashing down the road. "Rosalind!"

Rose muttered, "Drat!"

XYXYXYX

Thank you for reading! I'll be speedier with the next chapter!

V


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's the third chapter!** As always, **this is an unedited first draft**. Please bear with the errors! Also, as a note, it should be clearer now where this book varies from canon (this and chapter 3). I hope you enjoy it :)

 **Chapter 3**

The woman was beautifully dressed, her bonnet trimmed in lace with a thick gold ribbon. She wore gray about her cuffs, the rest of her gown a pale blue. A maid followed her, face red and streaked with tears. Elizabeth waved and called out to them.

"Please," Rose pleaded, tugging on Elizabeth's sleeve. "We cannot tell her about the meat pie."

"Is that your mother?"

"Yes."

"And I suppose she was not aware of your decision to take an extended walk?"

"I wished to visit Sarah Gibbs at the mill. But Miss Thompson wanted to stay close to the shop, she said because Mama does not approve of my getting my hems dirty, but it is because Miss Thompson wishes to speak with Mr. Carver. It is not fair."

"Rosalind Annabel Darcy," Rose's mother shouted. "I told you not to run off from Miss Thompson. Come here this instant!"

Darcy? Of Pemberley? Of all the horrid luck!

Mrs. Darcy curtsied to Elizabeth who returned the gesture. "I am sorry, Miss, for my daughter having troubled you."

Elizabeth saw no resemblance between Rose and Mr. Darcy. Rose took after her mother both in height and with her blond curls and wide, green eyes. Mrs. Darcy was far too young to be Mr. Darcy's mother by blood, so perhaps this woman was a second wife?

Mr. Darcy's mother must have passed on then. Perhaps his grief contributed to his cross demeanor?

Mrs. Darcy said, "We have not been able to keep a governess, and if you insist upon this behavior, I will be forced to leave you at the house when I come into town, you will not see your friend, do you understand?"

Rose's face fell. She clenched her fists. "I asked Miss Thompson to accompany me to the Gibbs'."

"Had I not said I would take you to the miller's after I had finished at the shop?"

"But we could go on ahead if Miss Thompson accompanied me."

"Which she clearly did not."

"I was accompanied by Mrs. Wilson."

Mrs. Darcy turned her attention to Elizabeth. "Mrs. Wilson, I presume?"

Elizabeth curtsied, "I apologize. I am new to Lambton. Miss Darcy accompanied me back to the main road. I said I would see her safely back to her family, and she obligingly accepted my company. I fear we became so caught our conversation, we both lost track of the time. I am certain she did not wish to cause you to bother of any kind."

Rose blinked.

"Now, if I may take my leave." As much as she liked Rose, Elizabeth had no interest in mixing herself further in the affairs of the Darcys.

"Mrs. Wilson?"

Elizabeth nodded.

"I am Mrs. Eugenia Darcy."

"Mrs. Wilson is looking for work as a lady's companion or governess," Rose said. "Perhaps she could become your companion?"

Mrs. Darcy's eyes lit up. "You are looking for a position as a governess?"

"Yes," Rose said. And Mrs. Wilson is very proper. She has no interest at all in climbing trees or exploring. I expect any young lady would become quite accomplished under her guidance."

Mrs. Darcy's eyes twinkled. "They would, would they? Mrs. Wilson, my daughter is enamored of your qualifications."

"I fear her fondness for me may have led to some embellishment."

"Nonsense. You are competent in Latin and Greek I assume."

Elizabeth nodded. She supposed she was competent enough, though self-taught. Charlotte, who had a childhood governess, had often lamented Elizabeth's greater facility with languages despite lacking formal training.

"And French?"

"No," Elizabeth seized on this deficit with relish. "I am not proficient in French. Nor do I draw. And I play the pianoforte with only passable skill."

"I fear your modesty ill serves you in this questioning. You appear to have a fine understanding of deportment and manners. And my daughter is fond of you, which is by far your most compelling qualification. None of the ladies the agency sent have managed such a feat. If you are interested in the job, you shall have it."

Elizabeth felt faint. "I–."

"You will be compensated, of course, and, to speak plainly, should you develop an interest in exploration or climbing trees, so long as long as my daughter develops the deportment and skills so she might, upon her coming out, have a rewarding season, I will be content."

Everything about the position was perfect to Elizabeth's needs. She was already fond of Rose, and Mrs. Darcy was beyond amicable. But Elizabeth's history with Mr. Darcy made such an arrangement impossible. Elizabeth pressed her lips together.

"Unless you are not fond of Rosalind?"

"No! Miss Rose is lovely."

"Then what is it? I am not one to make an offer of this sort lightly."

"It is only–. I have had the honor of making acquaintance with your... son, Mr. Darcy, and I fear we did not have the most amicable beginning."

To Elizabeth's shock, Mrs. Darcy laughed. "Is that all?"

"It seemed-." Elizabeth tried to find her words. "It-. Yes."

"Fitzwilliam does not spend a great deal of time at Pemberley, not since his father's passing. Had you other concerns?"

It was true, some men rarely concerned themselves at their own estates. Mr. Darcy had not made mentioned in Longbourn of his father's second wife nor his youngest sister. If he had, Mrs. Bennet would have learned of it through the town's extensive rumor mill. Perhaps Mr. Darcy was not often home. He had a house in town and Mr. Bingley's friendship.

Thinking of Mr. Bingley brought back thoughts of Jane and her failure to recapture his attention. Elizabeth had not imagined Mr. Bingley so fickle, and yet, he had not sought Jane out while they were in town, and Jane, having no entry to his social circle as Miss Bingley had not responded to her letters, had eventually given up and returned to Longbourn in despair.

"Mrs. Wilson?"

"It would be my honor. Yes."

Rose rocked forward on her toes. "Yes!"

Elizabeth smiled. So long as Mr. Darcy stayed away, and Elizabeth's self-taught knowledge sufficed to educate Rose, all would be well.

She hoped.

 **XYXYX**

Thank you for reading! Chapter 4 coming soon!

V


	4. Chapter 4

**Here's the fourth chapter!** As always, **this is an unedited first draft**. Please bear with the errors! I do intend to publish this as an ebook when it is done, after some serious editing of course :) Enjoy!

PS: Thank you all so much for the many wonderful and helpful comments in the previous chapters! I have read all comments and will fix the errors you've noted when the draft is done, fear not. You have my gratitude!

 **Chapter 4**

"Highwayman you say?"

Mr. Darcy did not like the glint in his cousin's eye. Col. Richard Fitzwilliam had been given leave from the front at the behest of his father the Earl. Richard had not explained the reason, nor how long he would be on English soil. He attended to his duties, but Darcy could tell his cousin itched to return to battle, and anything that promised excitement was enough to send him charging forward.

Though Richard had little income or inheritance, Darcy admired his cousin the freedom of his position second son. Darcy was wealthy, and his duties were chains. He did not dare anything improper. His mind, quite against his will, flitted once again to Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who was nothing if not improper. He ought not crave her smile, or the hint of challenge in her dark eyes.

He had even accepted his aunt invitation to Rosings under the impression that Miss Lucas had invited Miss Elizabeth Bennet to visit, only to learn to his dismay it was Miss Jane Bennet who visited.

Another conundrum.

Miss Jane Bennet was sweet and impeccably polite. Even Aunt Catherine warmed to the young lady, but Miss Bennet's smiles, when she gave them, lacked warmth. She asked Mr. Darcy about his time in town, not once referring to Mr. Bingley, but Mr. Darcy's friend stood between them like an unwanted ghost.

Had he made a mistake about her?

Perhaps it would be best if he returned to Pemberley. Not that he wished like Richard to patrol and dispatch of highwayman personally.

"No, Richard. Perhaps you might offer aid to parish constable. I am but a fair shot."

Col. Fitzwilliam laughed. "You are an excellent shot, Darcy." He said clapping his cousin up on the shoulder. "And a fine rider. You merely despise Mrs. Darcy, and that makes you reluctant to return to Pemberley."

"I do not despise her."

"No," Richard said, still chuckling. "You would not admit to such a strong emotion, Fitz. But after your father's passing, and the other affair...," neither Darcy nor Fitzwilliam ever directly spoke of Wickham's betrayal, "both you and Georgiana have avoided your home."

"My sister required a change of scenery."

"And your other sister?"

"Rosalind is too young. And even if she was not, she is as likely to stomp on Wickham's feet and spit in his face should he make any attempt at seduction."

In truth, Darcy had never been close with Rosalind, or Rose as she preferred to be addressed. As a baby and toddler, Rose had offered living evidence of his father's betrayal. How dare his father remarry a merchant's daughter a bare four years older than Darcy himself!

Mrs. Eugenia Darcy was not a proper mother, and though politeness dictated Darcy address her as such, the word caught in Darcy's throat like a fishbone. He would not. The second, unwanted Mrs. Darcy was too boisterous, too common, and too admiring of Darcy's father to earn any measure of Darcy's regard. Better she and her hoydenish daughter stay at the estate while Darcy kept himself far away. "The local Constable ought to be able to handle this menace," Darcy said. "Should it not prove exaggerated. These stories often are."

"I had never thought you a coward, Fitz," his cousin said.

Darcy saw red. "I am no coward. If not for the duties to my estate as my father's heir, I would have joined you on the front to defend our shores."

"I know of your temper in battle. We stood back to back when those cutpurses tried to rob and murder us five years back. But, for a man, bravery in the heat of battle is a lesser courage than facing the truths we wish to avoid."

How was it Richard so often saw into his soul?

No, Darcy did not wish to see Mrs. Eugenia Darcy or his half-sister Rosalind. If he could have sent them honorably away to another estate or Scotland or even the Americas, he would have. But Darcy honored his father's choice even as he despised it. So how was it cowardice to let them manage their own affairs?

Darcy said, "That woman and her daughter will be gain no comfort in my presence."

"I see," Col. Fitzwilliam said. "Had you wished to shoot? Aunt Catherine has stocked her lands well with pheasant."

"Yes." Darcy felt like shooting something. Coward? Only Richard would have the nerve to accuse Darcy of cowardice. Only Richard could get so easily under Darcy's skin.

Darcy and his cousin rode out to the edge of the brush and tied the horses to a tree. Fowling pieces slung over their shoulders, Mr. Darcy and Col. Fitzwilliam skirted thick brush and dense patches of grass where the pheasants foraged. It was late afternoon. Col. Fitzwilliam and Darcy took turns flushing out the game, which hopped, dashed and flew from one man's stomping feet into the site of the other's scattergun.

As Darcy shot, his anger grew sharper. He was not a coward.

Except, perhaps he was. A pheasant crossed his line of sight, and holding his breath, Darcy fired. The shot went wide, and the other birds scattered.

"Blast," Darcy cursed under his breath.

Next it was Darcy's turn to flush the game, which his cousin dispatched with workmanlike precision.

Who was Darcy, to allow a woman four years older than him to drive him from his home?

Darcy had resented her from the moment his father began courting with her and then, far too quickly, offered his hand in marriage. But that was no excuse.

After the second round of shooting, Colonel Fitzwilliam held three braces of pheasant, while only one hung for Mr. Darcy's line. Pathetic. He was no soldier, but he was, as Col. Fitzwilliam had said, a fair shot. A better shot than this.

"You are distracted, Darcy."

"I am not a coward."

"As you say."

Darcy pressed his lips together. "It is your turn to beat the game."

Col. Fitzwilliam nodded and within minutes, the pheasant were running.

Darcy lined up his shot. Highwayman, at Pemberley. His home. If he allowed a woman and child by their mere presence to run him from his home, he did not deserve the lands he had inherited or the duties he strove to fulfill.

Darcy fired, and a pheasant fell. He fired again.

After he had collected his game, a full six birds, he turned to his cousin. "We are going."

"Back to the house? There is still light."

"To Pemberley. I am no coward."

No cousin. You are not." Col. Fitzwilliam smiled, and it was a smile of a hunter. "Let us flush these bandits out and run them straight into our jaws."

 **XYXYXYX**

Thank you for reading! I'll have more up this weekend :D

V


	5. Chapter 5

Thank you so much for your wonderful comments and feedback on this story! I'm so excited so many seem to be enjoying it :D **This is Chapter 5 of my unedited WIP, An Unsuitable Governess.** Please bear with my poor proofing... I intended to eventually publish the completed and fully edited manuscript as an ebook.

As a note: Mrs. Darcy is 33-years-old, so she and Mr. Darcy the elder married when she was 21. She just looks younger. I did not intent to imply Mr. Darcy the elder was robbing the cradle when he took his second wife, lol. Thank you to the reviewers who pointed this out :P

With no further ado...

 **Chapter 5**

Were candles not already lit, Elizabeth would not have dared enter the library. As it was, knowing likely someone was inside, filled Elizabeth with a sharp sense of dread. Yes, she had been offered free access to the library and other open rooms of the estate, but she still was uncertain of the limitations of her new station. Certainly, it could not be improper to supplement the volumes in the study with other books for Rose's edification.

Though Rose's education was far from Elizabeth's mind as reveled in the sheer size and beauty of Pemberley's library. The room was massive. Shelves ran along the walls from the floor to ceiling, it required a wheeled ladder to reached the highest volume. Elizabeth's slippers shuffled over the flooring. On a high table in the room's center sat a large, leather bound dictionary.

In the chair farthest from the door, Mrs. Darcy sat, a book on her lap and a glass in her hand. Elizabeth froze.

Mrs. Darcy, still in her dinner gown, looked up.

Elizabeth curtsied. "Excuse me," she said. "Mrs. Darcy. I had only hoped to look over some texts. For Rose. Tales of Roman gods, I did not mean to disturb you."

Mrs. Darcy smiled and waved Elizabeth over. "Nonsense. Sit with me. There is another glass on this tray, and it has been so long since I have had company in the evening."

Elizabeth curtsied again and sat in the chair Mrs. Darcy had offered. "Thank you."

Mrs. Darcy handed Elizabeth the glass and poured what looked and smelled like brandy into it.

Elizabeth, not wishing to be impolite, took a sip. "Your library is magnificent," she said. "So many volumes, I do not believe I have ever seen so many in one place. I admit I have a great fondness for books. Perhaps more than is proper."

"Did your husband share your passion for literature?"

Elizabeth looked down at her hands. "He enjoyed books as much as the next man, I suppose." She was making a hash of this. Elizabeth should know more about her deceased husband than he had a passing interest in books. "We did not have occasion to learn all I would've wished about each other before they sent him to the front."

Mrs. Darcy smiled, taking a healthy swallow from her glass. "A whirlwind engagement?"

Elizabeth had assumed it would be easier to travel as a widow, assuming nobody would have enough interest to ask about her deceased husband. "Not precisely, more an issue of necessity," Elizabeth said. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, "You and Mr. Darcy, was it a whirlwind romance?"

Mrs. Darcy sighed. "It was. They say such are for the young, and while I was young, he was not, but when our eyes met…" She reached up, worrying at a lock of hair escaped her lace cap. "When our eyes met, I felt like I was his entire world. He was kind and handsome. My father would have rather I had chosen a younger man, but I liked Mr. Darcy's certainty. He had lost his wife, and he grieved, but I did not feel as though I was a replacement. Perhaps because I look so little like her.

"What did Mr. Darcy's first wife look like?"

"She was nearly as tall as Mr. Darcy, thin and large, dark eyes, much like your own though, at least from the portrait, hers were more serious. I believe her and Mr. Darcy were very much in love. He loved me, but there are parts of him I never touched." Mrs. Darcy sighed. "No matter. I had only hoped to have him longer. Fitzwilliam takes after him. I am glad he does not come here often. It hurts me to see so much anger looking out from the shadow of my husband's face and to know I was not enough."

"I cannot imagine you not being enough," Elizabeth said, and though it was a breach of propriety, she touched the other woman's hand. "You loved him, and it is clear Rose has only known love. Do not blame yourself."

"You are so kind, Mrs. Wilson," Mrs. Darcy said, and upon hearing the false name, Elizabeth felt lower than a worm. She wished to be kind, but every attempt hid at its center a shard of deceit.

"I miss him. I miss the closeness we shared. Mrs. Darcy's face colored and she finished her glass. Pulling her hand from Elizabeth, she took up the decanter and poured another glassful. "I miss him. I miss the closeness we shared, of a conjugal nature, you understand."

Elizabeth's stomach clenched. She nodded stupidly, having no experience from which to draw any semblance of empathy.

Mrs. Darcy continued "Sometimes, while we were sleeping, he would bring his arm around me and pulled me close, his manhood – –."

Elizabeth coughed, blushing furiously "I – ."

Mr. Darcy looked up. "Are we well?" Elizabeth pointed at the glass and continued to make a show of coughing.

"Oh, Mrs. Wilson, you should have said you were not used to strong spirits!"

Elizabeth, grateful for the excuse, shook her head. "I apologize."

"No matter. I am so grateful to have you here, Mrs. Wilson. I have no sisters, and my mother passed before my husband, so there has been no one. No one to talk to of the pain of losing him."

Elizabeth was far lower than a worm. She was a beetle, digging to the center of the earth. "My pain cannot compare to yours," Elizabeth said.

"A person cannot compare another's pain to her own. I had years with Mr. Darcy. We were given the blessing of a child. It was hard to lose him, but you had not even the joy of what you might have become. Every cut is its own wound."

Mrs. Darcy's empathy was its own wound.

Elizabeth said, "Do not think of mine. Yours…" She held the glass to her lips, pretending a sip and then asked, "How long after Rose was born did Mr. Darcy pass?"

"We had nine years together. Towards the end, I wondered if my husband had taken a mistress, when his vigor seemed to fade and he was away so often. But it was only he did not wish to worry me. He consulted with physicians in town while leaving me to care for Georgiana and Rose at the estate. In the end though, nothing could be done. His body wasted and his heart failed. I suppose ultimately it was a mercy." She wiped her knuckles under her eyes as tears fell.

Elizabeth's eyes burned with sympathy. Had Jane been wrung by so much obvious pain, Elizabeth would have embraced her and let her dampen the shoulder of Elizabeth's frock with her tears. But as open as Mrs. Darcy was, their stations were not the same. Elizabeth was not a sister and perhaps not even a friend. Between them was the issue of payment and lies.

Elizabeth said, "Mr. Darcy must have been glad for your love."

"I stayed with him the full night and day after. Fitzwilliam was there too. I should think he would've preferred his father and I had changed places, though he would never say such a thing."

Elizabeth wanted to say Mr. Darcy would never hope for such a thing, but she had lied enough. She did not understand Mr. Darcy. He had, at first, been dismissive, and later strange, following her around and staring, making the hair on her neck raise as she questioned how to be rid of him.

At the first assembly, Mr. Darcy had declined to dance with Elizabeth and insulted her. Then, at Netherfield, he had asked her to dance while proceeding in the act as though he was partnered with the promise of the gallows and not a lady whose company he could enjoy. Mr. Darcy had never moved to outright cruelty, and Elizabeth did not wish to accuse him of malice, but she could in no way be certain of his motives.

Yet, she wished to offer Mrs. Darcy comfort.

Elizabeth said, "Mr. Darcy loved his father, did he not?"

"Completely."

"And his father loved you. I cannot see how he would wish to tarnish his father's memory."

Ms. Darcy nodded and took another sip of her brandy. "You say you did not have an amicable acquaintanceship with Fitzwilliam, and yet, you have taken every effort to show him in the best light. That speaks well for your character, Mrs. Wilson."

Her character? Nothing could speak well of Elizabeth's character. She had lied this woman and offered false confidences. Elizabeth wished she could to tell Mrs. Darcy the truth now, but she was hurting, and for Elizabeth to reveal she had based her attempts at comfort upon a foundation of lies would only make things worse for them both.

Not tonight. Perhaps another night when Mrs. Darcy was not inclined to bare her soul to a stranger.

Elizabeth can only hope that Darcy continued to stay away from Pemberley long enough for Elizabeth to find the courage to tell the truth.

 **XYXYXYX**

 **Thank you for reading!** Mr. Darcy is on his way, and sparks will be flying. Also, there will be trees :D

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Note: I just discovered, thanks to a helpful reviewer, that I had not actually posted the chapters after chapter 27 to the site. I have fixed this and the whole book is there. I want everyone in my membership club to be happy and enjoy the experience. If you notice something else on my website that is causing problems for you, drop me a line!

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V


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